𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐦

FOUR

"I'm pretty when I cry."

4

I jolted awake, my heart hammering in my chest as I gasped for air, disoriented and shaking. My eyes were wet, sore from crying—or was it from the shock? It felt like everything that had happened was a fevered dream, a nightmare that somehow bled into reality. But the images that flashed through my mind... they weren't just paranoia. They were real.

I looked around in a panic, realizing I was in a strange bed. The dim light barely illuminated the room, and I had no idea where I was. The air felt tight, suffocating. I squinted, trying to get a grip on my surroundings. Something felt off. I opened the window, hoping for a breath of fresh air, but what I saw made my blood run cold.

The view outside wasn't of a street or a city. It was the endless expanse of clouds. I froze. My mind raced, spinning with the possibility. No... no, it couldn't be. I jumped back, my heart seizing in my chest.

I'm on a plane.

Kidnapped.

It wasn't paranoia; it was trauma.

I felt my heart damn near thumping out of my chest, each beat a frantic reminder of how fragile everything was. Tears flooded my eyes again, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

"Calm down, you need to-to be calm," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling, but the tears wouldn't stop. They kept coming, hot and relentless.

Desperate for something to ground me, I stumbled into the bathroom, my legs barely holding me up. I had to pull it together. I couldn't break down again—not like this—not without knowing what was really happening. I needed to know why I was here, what was going on. The questions spun in my mind, each one sharper than the last.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, horrified by what I saw. I looked like a wreck—my eyes swollen from crying, my hair a tangled mess. I felt like I was staring at someone else.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would clear my mind, but it didn't help. I dried my face with a towel, the fabric rough against my skin, but it did little to soothe the storm inside me.

Tommie. Her face flashed in my mind—her blood, her body on the ground, lifeless.

My breath hitched. The memory came rushing back like a tidal wave, choking me, drowning me in guilt and helplessness. My heartbeat raced, my chest tightening as the tears came again, soaking into the towel I pressed against my face.

I couldn't seem to stop crying.

I tried to pull myself together, tried to calm my shaking hands, but it was all too much. The weight of it all—the blood, the gunshot, Tommie's life taken in an instant, the feeling of being trapped on this plane with no answers—was more than I could bear.

What the hell is going on? Am I going to die? How the hell did I even get here?

I wiped my face for the last time, my hands trembling as I fought to keep it together. I needed to know if Stassie and Lynn were okay.

But for now, all I had was fear, uncertainty, and a deep, aching sense of loss.

I looked over to my right saw some basics folded for me. I went ahead and took a shower washing my hair in the process. I don't know what to make of this situation, I can't make a escape plan. I'm literally thousands of feet in the air.

I didn't want to blame myself for what happened to Tommie, but how could I not? Everything is such a mess. I got changed, wrapping my slightly damp hair in a bun.

I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror, "Don't cry, stop crying please. Please just stop," My eyes were still swollen than ever.

I slowly opened the door, peeking out seeing a hallway. How big is this plane, I walked straight while hugging myself, I got closer to the end I heard some laughter. I stepped out, showing myself, all eyes were on me. Here goes nothing.